Of Curves and Lines
by elusiveprodigy
Summary: [SaiNaru I know its very short, you don't have to tell me that. Will possibly add more later. Sai is an artist, and the curve of Naruto's back is beautiful. Don't read if you don't like yaoi.


**A/N: LOLOLOLOLOL. Okay, seriously. I'm not an extreme yaoi fan or anything, although I do enjoy it. As surprising as it may seem, I love to write. har har :B Yeah, I know. Anyways, lawl, strangely enough this writing fanfiction (which I never actually did before this summer) has sparked me into having a sudden urge for more creative writing. I write poetry occasionally, and I loose my kick too soon to write long stories. (tis why my kibahina has failed D:) but but I feeellll like writingggg and stuff. This SaiNaru is dedicated to teh Sarah, who told me to write the first one.. and LittleGaara from icha oekaki, cuz cuz.. ZOMG SHE WAS INSPIRED BY MY FIC AND DREW A PRETTY SAINARU PICTURE! (D: you're a she, right? oo)**

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Sai was an artist, and the curve of Naruto's back as it arched so beautifully was **so** delicious. That curve, followed by the low throaty moan of encouragement as Sai found himself thrusting from behind the Kyuubi boy would ignite a spark deep within him. The curve was bending and flexing with every pummel into it. The flexing which would cause his eyes to follow it up to the flexing back muscles, shoulder blades mimicking each other as they slid together in a tight embrace of flesh and bone.

Naruto was a work of art, his taut stomach begging to be touched just like his hips which jutted out firmly on either side of him. Jutted out; like his lower lip would usually end up doing as he talked Sai into showing him what art was. Showing him again, how the inward curve of his back would complement the outward curve of Sai's chest. The round shape of his thighs, parted, hips arching to be touched as his aching arousal would draw in the attention of the artist's eye as he made his mark. Sai knew he probably wasn't listening, but would tell him about the contrast of their skin. Naruto's dark tan, versus the pale flesh of his teammate, rolling together through thick boundaries of bodies and the motion of the other boy's pelvis. The front of Sai's thighs against the back of the blonde's.

He thought the way that his friend's hair would swoosh at the ends when it was drying was beautiful, just like the drops of rain that had wetted them moments before. And the ripe golden color, with the sun reflecting brightly from it as they sat in the field together. And the movements they created together as things went along, unplanned and unfinished.

A rhythm of movements, trained by colors and lines which contrasted and complemented each other like paints.

Paints, smoothed across a canvas like Naruto's fingertips, smoothing across rippled shoulders and his chest; as if attempting to blend them together.

Blended together, like the silky fluids which would be released simultaneously.

Like the simultaneous stimulation and pleasure the two boys would both reap within each other.

Sai appreciated the way Naruto's pink tongue looked as it slipped from his lips, moistening them slightly before leaving them parted in an invitation. An invitation to be kissed and sucked on, nibbled and explored thoroughly with a matching one.

And when Sai would find his two lithe hands fisted into messy blonde hair with two crystalline blue eyes staring up at him, he would have the urge to paint. He would wonder whether that urge could be considered an emotion, and if he had begun to breach new territory.. but then he would remember that he had had the urge before, and it was nothing new.

Even if it felt new, as if he had never experienced such an exciting burst of energy before in his life. Because Naruto himself was new to him, and all the days they went though tossing insults and smiles at each other were new.

Because his teammate was new, and the sudden yearning Sai had was new.

But he was still the same, emotionless artists who found beauty in everyday things, and he was the same dark haired bastard who would tell his lover after fucking him, that he had no penis.


End file.
